“Open your heart to life before summer is over.”

The open road is the wanderer’s wonderland.

It’s january, it’s cold and I search the sky for summer like I always do.

Silent lips speak the deepest truths.

Nights were made for broken hearts.

We always live for the summer until we don’t live it at all.

I lost and found myself in all your maybe’s.

I live in the imaginary wild and its soft as summer.

Sometimes getting lost is just the right direction.

Today, she decided to sparkle. And so she did.

I see the world in shades of you.

It takes effort to make it to forever.

There’s too much hurt in loving but too little life in not.

It’s not songs that remind me of lost lovers. It’s poems.

With each daydream she weaved her pastel heart into the sky.

Spring is poetry poured into nature.

I dreamed in skies of blue before september stole all the light.

When you find your purpose, all your pieces suddenly become functional, even the broken ones.

If you don’t understand your own heart why should I trust you with mine?

Sometimes, a spark of hope is enough to reform the light in your heart.

Poetry is the voice of the soul and the inspiration of the heart.

Kill those harmful butterflies in your heart, before it kill you.

Hold her hand if you like but she’ll rather you hold her heart.

Never mess with a poets heart for they know how to turn broken pieces in a written masterpiece of art.

Our love is poetry oozing from our hearts spilling onto bedsheets and tearing us apart. Our love was always meant to be a journey through the cosmos for eternity.